After stepping out of the shower, I stood in front of the mirror, expressing to my husband how unhappy I was with how small my breasts were. Instead of denying it like he usually does, he surprised me with a suggestion.

“If you want them to grow, take a piece of toilet paper and rub it between your breasts for a few seconds every day,” he said.

Intrigued and willing to try anything, I grabbed a piece of toilet paper and started rubbing it as he suggested. “How long will it take?” I asked.

“It might take years,” he replied with a straight face.

Pausing for a moment, I questioned him, “Do you really believe rubbing toilet paper on my chest every day will make them grow bigger?”

Without missing a beat, he smirked and said, “Well, it worked for your butt, didn’t it?”

Let’s just say he’s still alive… barely. With some physical therapy, he might even walk again. Stupid, stupid man.

Rogers humorously highlights human learning styles. Some gain wisdom from books, some from experience, but many insist on painful mistakes. His wit reminds us that pride and stubbornness often delay growth, while humility in learning spares unnecessary suffering and hardship.

Here is an example of what Rogers says above.

Here are 18 quotes from C.S. Lewis’ letters, essays, and literary works, covering a range of subjects from reading and writing to the importance of friendship. A little more on C.S. Lewis is at the end of this post.

Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.

I wrote the books I should have liked to read if only I could have got them. That’s always been my reason for writing. People won’t write the books I want, so I have to do it for myself.

The typical expression of opening Friendship would be something like, “What? You too? I thought I was the only one.”

The task of the modern educator is not to cut down jungles but to irrigate deserts.

A children’s story which is enjoyed only by children is a bad children’s story. The good ones last. A waltz which you can like only when you are waltzing is a bad waltz.

The value of the myth is that it takes all the things we know and restores to them the rich significance which has been hidden by the “veil of familiarity.”

You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death to you.

When I was ten I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.

In reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself. Like a night sky in the Greek poem, I see with a myriad eyes, but it is still I who see.

No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.

We all want progress. But … if you are on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road; and in that case, the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive man.

I do not think the forest would be so bright, nor the water so warm, nor love so sweet, if there were no danger in the lakes.

We have trained [people] to think of the Future as a promised land which favoured heroes attain — not as something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is.

The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them … For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never visited.

Everyone thinks forgiveness is a lovely idea, until they have something to forgive.

For me, reason is the natural organ of truth; but imagination is the organ of meaning. Imagination, producing new metaphors or revivifying old, is not the cause of truth, but its condition.

You can’t get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me.

Friendship is the greatest of worldly goods. Certainly to me it is the chief happiness of life. If I had to give a piece of advice to a young man about a place to live, I think I should say, “sacrifice almost everything to live where you can be near your friends.”

Clive Staples Lewis was born in Belfast, Ireland, in 1898 to a family of avid readers. Lewis, too, was soon immersed in literature: He started reading at just 3 years old, and by age 5, he had begun writing stories about a fantasy land populated by “dressed animals.”

Years later, a 19-year-old Lewis served in World War I with the Somerset Light Infantry. He experienced trench warfare on the front line in the Somme, the horrors of which he carried with him for the rest of his life.

Lewis first met J.R.R. Tolkien in 1926, and the two men developed a lifelong friendship. Lewis, who had become an atheist early in life, found his way back to theism and Christianity under Tolkien’s guidance. Tolkien, meanwhile, openly credited Lewis as a major source of creative encouragement: “Only from him,” wrote Tolkien, “did I ever get the idea that my ‘stuff’ could be more than a private hobby. But for his interest and unceasing eagerness for more I should never have brought The Lord of the Rings to a conclusion.”

Lewis himself was a prolific writer of both fiction and nonfiction. The latter included books and essays of Christian apologetics in which he passionately promotes and defends Christianity. Christian themes are also highly prevalent in his works of popular fiction, which include The Screwtape Letters, The Space Trilogy, and, most famously, The Chronicles of Narnia.

Over the years, the typical menu aboard a Pan Am flight was a reflection of luxury and international flair.

Wealthy Americans’ mid-century interest in luxury and gourmet dining (a selling point was that the famous Parisian restaurant, Maxim’s, allegedly supervised the preparation of meals) was on full display in the multi course menus that greeted first class passengers, down to the Maxim’s logo that decorated the printed menus.

Smartly outfitted chefs and stewards carved meats aisle-side under the gaze of sophisticated passengers, but to keep consistent standards, much of the preparation needed to be centralized.

Pan Am’s solution was to develop four gigantic commissaries–in New York, San Francisco, and Tokyo, which would prepare foods, flash Y freeze them, and deliver them to airports around the world. What this meant practically was that items sourced in France, such as foie gras, might be shipped to New York for including in first-class meals, then shipped back to Paris to be loaded on a plane destined New York.

The logistics (and food miles, in these pre-environmentally-conscious days) were astounding.

In the 1950s and 1960s, passengers could expect elaborate meals with multiple courses, such as caviar, lobster, and chateaubriand, served on fine china with silver cutlery.

By the 1970s, the menus had become more diverse, incorporating dishes from around the world to cater to an increasingly international clientele.

Despite the changes and deregulation in air travel, Pan Am maintained a reputation for its gourmet cuisine until its operations ceased in 1991.